"Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon" [Henry IV, I.ii.31-33]
HISTORY NEVER REPEATS ITSELF, BUT IT OFTEN RHYMES
"There is a Providence that protects idiots, drunkards, children and the United States of America." Otto von Bismarck

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Monday, July 11, 2011

Soros Executive Director tries and fails to Exonerate Alger Hiss

The Nation is the place where treasonous half-wits usually try to BS their way back into respectability. This issue dates from way back in 1993, but is still timely because it demonstrates that traitor/criminal George Soros has been busy for decades trying to justify his Marxist twaddle. A hack named Ethan Klingsberg scribbled this in an article on how Alger Hiss had NOT been outed by the disclosures of newly-opened ex-Commie archives. A fellow named Noel Field had been named by Whittaker Chambers as one of Alger Hiss's friends and colleagues. Here is what hack Klingsberg says about Field and his testimony:

Two reports by the Hungarian secret police on Field's statements and one Hungarian translation of Field's "autobiography," all dated during the last two years of his confinement, convey the same tale of relations with Hiss:

We [Field and his wife] made friends with Alger Hiss – an official of the "New Deal" brought about by Roosevelt – and his wife. After a couple of meetings we mutually realized we were Communists. Around the summer of 1935 Alger Hiss tried to induce me to do service for the Soviets. I was indiscreet enough to tell him he had come too late. Naturally I didn't say a word about the Massings.

In the same statements Field says Hede Massing was the Soviet agent to whom Field turned over State Department documents in the 1930s. The statements are consistent with Chambers' and Massing's testimony. In two other prison "autobiographies" Field refers to Hiss only as a colleague who knew that Field "was a Communist." But in those statements, Field goes on to note that Hiss, while aware that Field was a Communist, was a strong supporter of Field at the State Department and even tried to help him obtain a job as a State Department adviser in the Philippines in 1940.

To most honest historians, this evidence would be overwhelming that Hiss was a Soviet agent, but hack Klingsberg spends the rest of the article twlling us poor unenlightened readers that, no, Field's testimony is to be disregarded.

Read it for laughs.

Here is the Nation's description of hack Klingsberg:Ethan Klingsberg, an attorney, is the former executive director of the Soros Foundation's Institute for Constitutionalism and Legislative Policy. Research for this article was supported by The Nation Institute's Cold War Archives project.

We can only wonder what other baubles The Nation's "Cold War Archives Project" are feverishly being disregarded and twisted to fit the sick paraphiliacs at that zero-credibility publication.

Wasn't The Nation-owner Victor Navasky also chairing the Pulitzer committee for the Columbia School of Journalism recently? What a joke!

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"''I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young And weep because I know all things now: I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
Among my leaves in times out of mind....' Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon."
Twenty-and-eight the phases of the moon, The full and the moon’s dark and all the crescents, Twenty-and-eight, and yet but six-and-twenty The cradles that a man must needs be rocked in: For there’s no human life at the full or the dark. From the first crescent to the half, the dream But summons to adventure and the man Is always happy like a bird or a beast; But while the moon is rounding towards the full He follows whatever whim’s most difficult...An aged man is but a paltry thing,A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress....Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.